Free The Importance Of Being Wicked by Miranda Neville

accident, Your Grace?”
    “I walked into a lamppost on my way home last night.”
    “Indeed, sir. Very painful. Might I suggest a slice of raw beef to reduce the swelling.”
    Thomas walked over to the full-length mirror that was one of the hotel’s amenities. It wasn’t as bad as he feared, but he sported a dark bruise above his right cheekbone. It itched.
    “If you think it will help.”
    “Better not to alarm the ladies.” Minchin knew why he was in London.
    The ladies, of course, knew exactly how he’d acquired the shameful evidence of his unseemly behavior. Not that they’d seemed shocked by it. Mrs. Townsend and Lady Windermere had exhibited a cheerfulness bordering on hysterical delight at the adventure. Their laughter had shaken the carriage all the way home. If Miss Brotherton expressed herself more quietly, it was only because that was her nature. Thomas had little doubt that his future bride had been as amused as her more vocal companions.
    No, he didn’t need to worry that they would be repelled by a black eye. On the other hand, now he’d been in London for several days, he perceived that his garments were quite out of fashion. Sensible, good-quality clothing made by the best tailor in Winchester, but not in the least tonnish.
    “I notice coats are shorter at the front and lapels are wider these days. Do you think I should visit a London tailor?”
    “Your Grace’s father never did,” Minchin replied in his usual toneless voice.
    “He didn’t set much store by fashion. I believe he wore the same style of coat for twenty years.”
    “Indeed, Your Grace. His late Grace could be quite rigid in his attitudes.” Minchin’s lips thinned. Could he actually be displaying a tinge of humor?
    “Rigid?”
    “His attitude toward dress, I meant, Your Grace.”
    “If I had it in mind to buy some new clothes, where should I go?”
    The speed of Minchin’s response made it clear this was a question he’d studied. “Your Grace will wish to acquire some of the new pantaloons for daywear. Meyer or Weston are well regarded. For coats, Mr. Brummell favors Schweitzer and Davidson on Cork Street.”
    “Who is this Brummell? Never heard of him.”
    “He is said to be the best-dressed man in London and sets the example for all others, even the Prince of Wales. On Mr. Brummell’s advice, His Royal Highness has ordered several coats from Schweitzer.”
    “My father certainly wouldn’t approve of him. ” The former duke had spent much of his last ten years railing against modern immorality as exemplified by the Duchess of Devonshire, Charles James Fox, and, above all, the heir to the throne. It had been a great relief to him when the King dismissed the Whigs for Mr. Pitt. Castleton, scion of generations of Whig dukes, happily joined the mass exodus to the Tories.
    The extravagance, depravity, and ingratitude of the Prince of Wales had been a constant refrain. And while the duke never criticized his own son directly, there were times when Thomas had felt obscurely guilty, as though by the mere fact of being a son and heir he shared the Prince’s less desirable traits. Which was truly unjust since Thomas had always been dutiful, never misbehaved.
    “Perhaps I’ll call on this Schweitzer. Cork Street did you say?”
    “Indeed, Your Grace. Would you like me to arrange an appointment?” Minchin sounded positively eager. Valets, Thomas supposed, must get a vicarious pleasure out of their masters’ new clothes. Miss Brotherton would appreciate them too.
    That final thought rang a false note. Nothing in his acquaintance with her indicated the slightest interest in fashion, men’s or women’s. Her cousin, on the other hand, demonstrated a distinct sense of style. He could readily imagine her being attracted to gentlemen of tonnish appearance, like that abominable Horner. He wouldn’t want to look like that blackguard with his wandering hands. Horner was the kind of man Mrs. Townsend admired.
    But Mrs. Townsend